


Holiday Magic

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:45:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron's got a few questions about what Muggles do for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Magic

"So explain to me about this Santa thingy," Ron asked.

They were making the long walk from Hermione's parents' home to a little play park where they could Apparate home unseen. It have been her first Christmas Eve with her family in several years, and Ron and Harry had been honored to accompany her, even if Ron had been a bit at sea among all the Muggles. At least he hadn't broken anything or frightened anyone too badly, which had been Harry's chief concerns; he might've enjoyed watching the Weasleys cause havoc on Privet Drive, but he actually liked the Grangers and valued their opinions. Blowing up their fireplace would've made a poor impression.

Hermione turned at him with a frown just visible above her scarf. "What do you mean, Santa?"

Ron adjusted his stocking cap, which the stiff wind kept blowing into his face. "I dunno, your one cousin kept talking about it. Octavia?"

"Olive," Hermione said.

"Right. Kept talking about how her daughter's stopped believing in it."

"Santa's a person," Harry said. "Sort of a kid thing."

"Who is he?"

Hermione chuckled a bit. "Santa Claus is fat old man who comes down chimneys to give presents to good boys and girls on Christmas."

Ron stopped, looking alarmed. "What? Like with Floo powder?"

"He's not real," Harry said quickly. Hermione sometimes forgot that Ron didn't catch onto some Muggle things as fast as they caught onto the wizarding equivalents. "It's just a story that parents tell their kids on Christmas, to make it seem...I dunno, more special or something."

"And to make the children behave," Hermione added. "Supposedly Santa doesn't bring gifts to bad little children. I know my parents used to tell me that Santa wouldn't come if I didn't go to sleep when I was told."

"The Dursleys never dared threaten Dudley like that," Harry said. "He would've had a tantrum. I think Uncle Vernon actually blamed the lack of presents on Santa's poor work ethic."

Hermione smiled a bit. "Well, he is a busy man, what with visiting every good child in the world."

Ron's brows were deeply furrowed. "Wait a minute. So Muggle mums and dads tell their kids that a strange old man is coming out of the fireplace if they behave, but he won't come if they're naughty?"

"Well," Harry said, "put like that..."

"'Cause that sounds a bit backwards to me."

Hermione sighed. "Look, Santa Claus is supposed to be this wonderful individual who loves everyone and rewards good behavior with toys and sweets. He's not threatening because he's incapable of evil. He's like...like the incarnation of everything good and happy."

"Like a Patronus?" Ron said.

"...close enough."

Ron seemed to think on this for a while as they trudged over the ice walks. "What's-her-name said her daughter stopped believing in him, though. Was she just cross that she couldn't blackmail her into behaving anymore?"

"It's not blackmail," Hermione said huffily, but Harry cut her off before she could start on a tirade.

"Only little kids believe in Santa," he explained. "Once they figure out he isn't real, it's like...that means they're growing up or something. Aunt Petunia cried the year Dudley worked it out."

"Who tells them, then?" Ron asked.

"Tells them what?"

"That Santa's just a story." He kicked a hunk of ice and sent it skittering across the road. "If it's such a bad thing for kids to find out, who tells them?"

Harry shrugged. "Piers Polkiss told Dudley, I think."

"No one told me," Hermione said, with just a hint of childish pride. "I worked it out for myself, I think. Then again, my parents never put much work into convincing meI know my Uncle William used to leave a thank-you note by the sherry glass and put a sooty footprint on the hearthstone."

"Which was Uncle William?" Harry asked.

"The one with the mole."

"Oh."

Ron asked, "What sherry glass are you talking about?"

"Oh, sometimes Muggles leave Santa a glass of sherry and a plate of biscuitsyou know, as a snack on his way."

"And you say he's supposed to visit every kid in the world?"

"Exactly," Hermione said. "That's how I figured out he wasn't real."

Ron blinked. "I was just thinking he'd need an awful strong hangover potion Christmas morning."

Harry laughed, both at Ron's slightly indignant tone and Hermione's expression. "WellI suppose that's one way of looking at it," she said haltingly. "But you know Muggles don't have those."

"Well, of course they don't know about them," Ron said, "but if they didwell, the Santa story doesn't sound all that odd to me, aside from the part about strangers in the Floo."

"It doesn't?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Ron said. "I mean, if he's got a Time-Turner and he can Apparate, he'd have no problem getting to all those houses."

"But he doesn't Apparate," Hermione said, "he has a flying sleigh."

Ron shrugged. "My dad had a flying car. And he's going to get a musical lawnmower for his birthday if the twins can work out the charmsnot that any of us actually know that, if Mum asks, by the way."

"The sleigh doesn't really fly," Harry put in. "It's the reindeer that pull it."

"Oh," Ron said, "like the carriage from Beauxbatons, fourth year."

"Yesno!," Hermione said, giggling a bit, "Ron, Santa lives at the North Pole and his toys are made by elves."

"House elves?"

Harry snorted. Hermione looked a bit gobsmacked.

"Because, you know, with the right warming charms"

"This is ridiculous," Hermione declared. "There's no such thing as Santa Claus."

"Then why's everyone going on about him?"

"He's a symbol!" Hermione said. "He stands for goodness and generosity! But he's not real, and Olive is sad because her daughter is old enough to know that people can't live at the North Pole and reindeer don't fly and nobody could possible travel all over the world in one night, and anyway, all her gifts were bought at Marks and Spencer."

"See, that's it," Ron said. "Because I thought we'd just established that people can live there and fly and stuff."

"Well, if you're a wizard," Hermione said.

"Exactly!" Ron said. "How d'you know this Santa bloke isn't some warlock that's gone soft in the head and like kids?"

"He's got a point there," Harry said.

Hermione looked flustered. "Because people have believed in Santa Claus for hundreds of years! Not even a wizard could live that long!"

"'Cept for Nicholas Flamel," Ron said.

Hermione made a noise like a steaming kettled and trudged ahead of them. "I can't talk to you!"

Ron shook his head. "Blimey, what'd I say?"

Harry laughed again. "You know, maybe that's why wizards don't have a Santahe's too mundane for us. Not so special."

"Or maybe we don't want to give our kids nightmares about drunken strangers coming out of the Floo," Ron said darkly.

They met Hermione at the gate of the play park, and she seemed to have settled down a bit; at least, she didn't give them more than a grumpy glance. "Come on. Your mum's probably waiting up for us."

"Yeah, you're right." Ron fumbled to get his wand out of the inner pocked where he'd slipped it. "I did enjoy myself this evening, though."

"That's good."

"Got loads of ideas for what to get Dad next Christmas."

"Well, my parents seemed to like you both," Hermione said. "Though she did wonder what you were doing staring at the lights on the tree like that."

"I was trying to see how they worked," Ron said. "Dad'd be over the moon if I told him that Muggle had invented electric fairies!"


End file.
